


Prompts Galore (Overwatch)!

by momopichu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, cotton candies, derp, prompts, smut?, will add more tags when the time comes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:01:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9264899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momopichu/pseuds/momopichu
Summary: My collection of Overwatch prompts. I'm challenging myself to write a mini-short in 1000 words or less. Will add on characters and tags along the way!P.S. Don't be afraid to request a prompt either in the comments or on my tumblr (momopichu.tumblr.com)





	1. Cotton Candy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Is there a reason why you're gnawing on me?"  
> Prompt from: http://momopichu.tumblr.com/post/155493970717/non-romantic-fluff-starters  
> Word count: 742

"Is there a reason you’re gnawing on me?” Gabriel asked.

Jack’s reply was muffled as the blond nuzzled his way along the back of Gabriel’s shoulders, mouth nipping away at the material of his hoodie. Huffing indignantly, Gabriel attempted to twist in the other man’s hold but found himself held fast, Jack’s strong arms circled around his back to link in front of his waist - try as he might, he found himself rooted in place. Shivers snaked up his spine as Jack worked his way along, teeth barely glancing off the dark skin revealed by the neckline of his hoodie. The blond kept his bites light, ticklish. It reminded Gabriel more of a hamster gnawing away at a stick of carrot - cute, but starting to chafe at his patience.

Plonking a hand on Jack’s golden hair, he roughly pushed the blond back from where the younger man was placing feather-light bites against the skin of Gabriel’s sensitive neck. Jack’s protest came out as a squeak as the blond tightened his hold around Gabriel’s waist, pulling him back flush against the blond’s chest so that the older man could not escape.

“Jack, what the hell!?” He growled “I’m tired and I need to go clean up!”

Gabriel had just returned from a mission gone awry. The task was still completed - because Gabriel was if not, a man of efficiency - but the additional stress and clean up had him wanting nothing more than to return to his quarters and bury himself under piles of blankets. But here he was, stuck in the arms of his superior barely a meter away from his room…

“But you taste so sweet!” Jack whined, struggling to bury his nose back into Gabriel’s shoulder.

And then it clicked. His latest quarry had fled into the crowded lanes of a carnival in full procession. In the ensuing chaos, Gabriel had been tossed into a cotton candy stall. The enhancements in his body spared him from the injuries such a fall wound garner but it obviously could do nothing about the fact that Gabriel had returned covered in barely perceivable pink fuzz. And if anything, everyone on the damn base knew that a certain ‘Strike-Commander’ had a sweet-tooth.

Distracted by his thoughts, Gabriel hadn’t realised that Jack was back until teeth tugged at the hairs of his beard. Surprised, he jerked away, twisting his head to face the blond in what he hoped was a furious glare. He had to smother the lump in his throat when cornflower blue eyes were turned on him in the widest, most pitiable, puppy-dog pout of all time.

Heat rushed up Gabriel’s cheeks, setting the tips of his ears on fire. Despite the racing of his mind as he cursed everything under the sun, his body was rooted in place as Jack returned to nuzzle along the edges of his jaw, planting feather light kisses alternated with soft nips and a hint of something wet. Carefully - teasingly - the blond’s mouth worked its way along, tracing Gabriel’s cheek. Dimly, the older man realised that he had turned to face Jack, allowing the younger man better access to the sweetness that covered his dark, sun-kissed skin. A mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, Jack leaned in, a pink tongue protruding from soft lips as he swiped the wet digit over Gabriel’s nose - much like a cat lapping contently at milk.

A growl tore itself from Gabriel’s throat as he broke himself from his reverie. Dark hands were quick to find and grip the flesh of Jack’s ass and hoist him up, forcing the blond to lock his heels around Gabriel’s waist as he shifted his hands up to the older man’s shoulders for better support. The thundering bang as Gabriel slammed Jack against the wall was forgotten as he buried his head into the cleft of the blond’s neck, biting hard enough to leave a bruise against the pale skin. Jack was mewling, pushing Gabriel’s beanie off, the blond was quick to find the remnants of pinky sweetness still tangled in the wayward strands of Gabriel’s curls.

It was with Jack mouthing at the hair on his head, struggling like a playful kitten in his arms, that Gabriel managed to get them both into his room and slam the sliding door shut behind him.

If anyone noticed the increase in ‘bruises’ dotting his already dark skin the next day, they kept it to themselves.


	2. Forgive me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 55\. "Sorry doesn't fix everything"  
> Prompt from: http://momopichu.tumblr.com/post/156194228857/more-sentence-starters  
> Word count: 612

_Sorry doesn’t fix everything._

And yet we still mutter apologies to the darkest depths of oblivion, hoping they might be heard. His bloody hands are around his weapon, heaving the pulse rifle up with muscles barely held together by stubborn strands.

_Sorry doesn’t fix everything._

And yet we stand, struggling to put weight on tender feet and move on, to see the next sunrise. He brings the weapon up, his eyes are blurry but he steadies himself, looking down the the length of the rifle that has long ago become an extension of his arm.

_Sorry doesn’t fix everything._

But we will try, because none of us can go back, the sands of time are moving ever forward, a crashing waterfall down a mountain that no wall can stop. He narrows faded blue eyes, the short strands of silver - his hair - bow gracefully in the wind. Sparks of light, fire seeds, flutter in the wind around him. He takes a shuddering breath, composing himself to face the dark shadow looming before him.

_Sorry doesn’t fix everything._

But he will say the words anyway, not because he wishes to be forgiven, but because he hopes the other will find the strength to _endure_. Past the pain, past the years of loneliness and heartbreak. His breath fades away, the heartbeat in his chest a recurring beat - the sound of thundering war drums beckoning him on. He pulls the trigger.

The helix rockets spiral through the air, crystal blue shards arcing past the shadow - to destroy the looming omnic behind the Reaper.

The wraith twists, surprise in every line and curl of his smokey body. Seeing the fallen omnic, the Reaper cannot help the puzzlement that spreads across his features under an ivory mask. When the black shadow finally turns back, he finds the great weapon clattering from the injured Soldier’s fingers. The man himself is crumbling, collapsing to his knees amongst the fire and rubble before falling, ever falling.

The Reaper streaks over the ground to the Soldier’s side, clawed hands pulling at a jacket too torn to be anything other than leather rags held together by badly stitched seams. Smoke curl in the air, silky tendrils curling through the fields of silver atop the fallen man’s head. There is no beat in the Reaper’s chest and yet, every jerk and sway of his body is sending a jolt through his heart, piercing like someone had punched a needle through the tender flesh.

“Jack…”

“... _I’m sorry, Gabe._ ” The Soldier rasps.

And he is gone, the blue of his eyes - already faded - are darkened, staring sightlessly into the burning sky. The Reaper’s clawed hands are pawing, raking across the chest to tear aside the armour. When his palm finally meets the Soldier’s flesh, he finds nothing but emptiness.

So the wraith sits, beside the body of which he has hunted for the past ten years without fail. He makes no sound, the smoke that is a part of him is wafting into the air, a mist that surrounds the Reaper and the body under his palm. It is serene, but the wraith feels anything but calm. For once, he is aimless. With his hunt complete, what is there for him now?

As he turns crimson red eyes to the blank face of the Soldier, he is reminded of a saying he once read in a book:

_The cycle of hatred - of vengeance - is a never ending one. I do not ask of your forgiveness for I know it is not what you can grant. I only ask that you endure, because it is the only way to break from the circle, and therefore…to save oneself._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys've noticed, it's actually a play on a quote I got from Full Metal Alchemist. 
> 
> The original quote is “Enduring and forgiving are two different things. You must not forgive the cruelty of this world. It's our duty as human beings to be angry at injustice. But we must also endure it. Because someone must sever this chain of hatred."
> 
> Find or request prompts from me at: momopichu.tumblr.com


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